


Goddamn Pixies

by writingonpostcards



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crack, Fluff and Humor, M/M, excessive use of the word 'goddamn'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-19 10:24:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3606657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingonpostcards/pseuds/writingonpostcards
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here are some things that happen to Stiles over the weekend. He fights pixies. He sees Derek naked. Also his eyes itch a lot which is really annoying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Goddamn Pixies

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this around midnight and edited it at 1am and that about sums it up.
> 
> Be warned, excessive use of italics ahead.

“Stupid, goddamn pixies gotta go ruin my goddamn Friday night like some stupid goddamn, stupid, AH! WHY WON’T YOU STOP ITCHING!” Stiles digs his palms into his eyes and rubs for the, oh, maybe 278th time tonight. “If all these werewolf shenanigans force me toward needing glasses I am going to punch someone in the goddamn face.”

Stiles peels off his gross, covered-in-pixie-gunk shirt and flops face first onto his bed.

Sleep is heaven on a normal night and after spending literally hours (hours, literally) battling a full on swarm of tiny, horned, devil things he is _wiped_. And he had to play chauffer to practically the entire pack. Why no-one else ever brings their car to these showdowns he will never know.

Thankfully Stiles does not relive the battle in his sleep that night. He actually has a rather pleasant dream involving marshmallows and chocolate sauce and whipped cream and muscles and when he wakes up he has a lovely, luxurious jerk off session as a belated reward for surviving the previous night. Then he has a lovely, luxurious shower (and may or may not jerk off again because why the hell not; it’s the weekend, he’s alive, his eyes aren’t itchy this morning and he wants to relive his dream again).

His father is out at the station already according to the post-it note left stuck on the bench. Yay, house to himself.

The fridge is its usual brand of empty because Stiles didn’t have time to grocery shop last weekend. But there is a wonderfully, wonderfully full carton of orange juice sitting on the top shelf which Stiles reaches for with glee.

In his eagerness he rams his hand against something hard. 

“Ow! Fuck’s sake.”

He goes for the orange juice again, muttering about his eyesight again and making a few dozen promises to whatever Gods are listening that he’ll be less obnoxious if they make sure he never has less than 20/20 vision.

The fridge door must have closed during his praying because when he looks up from his (admittedly uninjured) hand he’s greeted with the fridge calendar from last year and a drawing from a kid who’s cat Stiles’ dad had rescued from a tree. 

It’s adorable in the way kids artworks are. Stiles was jealous when he first saw it but then remembered that he’s 18 years old and doesn’t care about that stuff.

(If he drew his own thank you note on paint the afternoon it appeared and stuck it inside his dad’s lunch the next day then that is nobody’s business anyway.)

Stiles drinks his juice straight from the carton in front of the TV. It’s great.

It is less great when his eyes start itching again. So he calls Scott about it.

“So, Scott. Any side effects from last night?”

“What, besides feeling really crap this morning?”

“Yes, beside that.”

“Not really.”

“Ok, thanks. Bye.”

The conversation with Liam goes about the same. Lydia doesn’t even answer. Kira’s phone is answered by Scott and then it’s just a repeat of their earlier conversation with Kira included.

So Stiles calls Derek.

“What.” Derek must have been woken up by Stiles’ call. He’s probably lying all sleep ruffled in his bed with crazy hair and dents in his cheeks from the pillow. But Stiles isn’t picturing that.

“No need to be so growly. I was just wondering whether you’re feeling any side effects from the pixies last night?”

“No. Why.” Ah Derek. Always with the non-questions.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just like, my eyes won’t stop itching?”

“You’ve probably been staring at a screen too long Stiles. That, or you need glasses.”

“Nope, no sir-ee. I don’t need glasses. But it’s not a normal kind of itching. It’s like they’re too dry except I know they’re not. And now that I think about it, it sort of comes and goes randomly so-“

“Stiles.” Derek sighs down the line and huffs his shoulders. Well, Stiles can’t _see_ him huffing his shoulders but he knows the meaning of Derek’s various exhales and this is the shoulder huffing one. Wow, is huffing even a word? It doesn’t sound like it anymore.

“Did you hear me?”

“Yes. Actually no. Sorry. Is ‘huff’ a word?”

“Yes, Stiles. Like I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your house down.”

Stiles laughs at the big bad wolf reference. Damn, why does it always get him doubly whenever Derek shows his funny side?

“Look, all I said was that you shouldn’t be worried. I don’t think it’s supernatural. But if you want you can come over to mine and I’ll check it out properly for you.”

“Ok. Thanks. Will do.”

So it’s not exactly what Stiles was hoping for in terms of an answer but it’s better than sitting at home and rubbing his eyes all day.

So he goes to Derek’s loft.

He imagines it’s neat and organised like it always is despite all the hectic-ness of last night. Maybe with the remains of last night’s dinner on the table because when he’d called Derek out to the preserve last night he got grouchy at Stiles because he was in the middle of eating. Well suck it up Derek, really. Stiles was in the middle of gaming which is much more vital to life.

“Wo, major deja vu,” Stiles mutters under his breath because the loft looks exactly how he’d pictured it a second ago. Even down to the half eaten sandwich on the countertop. Weird.

“Yo! Derek!” No reply. Which is kinda rude considering Derek invited Stiles over.

He’s clearly not downstairs so Stiles makes his way up the spiral staircase to the second level of the loft where the bedrooms are located. Not that he’s been there before so he doesn’t really know what to expect, but logically it’s where the bedroom is.

What he doesn’t expect is it to be mostly open plan like the bottom floor.

But it is, so he finds himself in what he guesses is Derek’s bedroom. There are cupboards and a chest of draws and some bookshelves and, so _that’s_ where the TV is – he knew Derek had to have had one. Also a massive bed with several pillows and its navy blue sheets in disarray. Huh, it’s actually messier than Stiles pictured considering the state of the downstairs. There are even clothes strewn on the floor.

Not that he’s spent a lot of time picturing Derek’s room.

Just like a normal amount, like, the normal amount that any bisexual teenager spending lots of time in close proximity to a Derek-like human would.

(That is to say, a lot.)

(Mainly at night.)

(Mainly when in bed.)

(Sometimes not at night and in the shower.)

So anyway, Stiles is standing at the top of the staircase looking around Derek’s room, ~~cataloguing it for future fantasies~~ , only to see Derek walking out of what must be his ensuite bathroom, still a little damp and glistening from his shower. 

And completely naked.

Not even a towel. 

What is he playing at? Like, Stiles is standing _right there_ and his werewolf senses should have picked up on that before he even left the bathroom. Or like, even just regular human eyesight would be enough by now because Stiles is definitely in Derek’s peripherals. Stiles would be scrambling for some kind of covering if their positions were reversed.

“Derek, oh my god!”

Derek barely even reacts, just sort of rolls his eyes a little and fluffs his hair and wow those back muscles are gorgeous. But back to the whole Derek is naked and doesn't seem to care about it thing.

“Derek, seriously.”

“I’ll be out in a minute!” Derek shouts without bothering to turn his head.

 _Why are you shouting?_ Stiles thinks and shrugs his shoulder exuberantly with his arms outstretched. Jeez, maybe Derek is having side effects from last night. Those side-effects being a severe lack of spatial awareness. And perhaps no werewolf senses seeing as he hasn’t even noticed Stiles despite his proximity and exaggerated movements.

Derek’s still naked.

If Stiles weren’t so busy beginning to worry about Derek he’d really be appreciating the nice view of his ass. Oh wait, no, he can still appreciate it plenty.

 _“What are you doing?”_ It may come out a little strangled but that is only because Derek has bent down to pick some jeans off the floor and he had to turn around to do so and now Stiles is seeing his front from front on. His full frontal nudity from the front angle. That means penis. “Holy shit. _Holy shit._ ”

“Stiles?” Derek doesn’t shout it this time, but he does straighten up and look to where Stiles is standing. Actually no, he’s... he’s looking about 2 feet to the right of where Stiles is standing.

Stiles’ earlier mental barb about Derek suffering side-effects is now looking not so ridiculous.

“Yes, Derek I am _right here_.” He does helpful gesturing while trying very hard not to glance at Derek’s dick but it is also _right there_.

“No you’re not.”

“Uh, yes I am.” How can Derek not see that? Seriously. _He_ is the one that needs glasses obviously. Wait, is that a thing? Can werewolves actually ever have a need for glasses? 

“No.” Derek repeats like some idiotic... _idiot_.

“Yes, Derek.” Why won’t he move the jeans in front of his body so they can actually shield him? Modesty is a word for a reason.

Stiles must be telepathic because Derek actually moves to put his legs into his jeans.

“Oh, so _now_ he puts clothes on.”

And that finally gets some kind of reaction from Derek. He goes stock still for 4 seconds (Stiles counts) then yanks the jeans up almost viciously and starts towards Stiles while doing them up.

He still has no shirt on like he doesn’t even have any modesty, which actually as a born werewolf he kinda doesn’t, and then he’s reaching out an arm toward Stiles and it isn’t clawed but who knows, Stiles has just seen every last bit of Derek so he’s probably at least going to be grabbed and shoved against something.

“Wo, hey now.” Stiles curls his body backwards away from Derek who’s arm is... it’s moving away from Stiles. Actually swinging rather randomly through the air, almost like he’s miming opening a door. Which is stupid. It just looks se- _stupid_.

(No brain, not everything Derek does while half naked is hot. It just isn’t.)

“Stiles.” Derek is right in front of him and finally looking at him (not 2 feet away from him for some probably stupid reason). 

Derek’s eyes slide up and down his body ( _don’t think about his hands don’t think about his hands don’t think about his tongue_ ) with the efficiency and thoroughness he usually reserves for checking the pack for injuries.

“Derek, dude. I’m not hurt like that.” Because itchy eyes are not a cause for the rest of his body to show signs of injury.

“Stiles, you just saw through my bedroom wall.”

“What? That’s crazy talk! Are you- _holy shit balls_.” Stiles blinks several times. And then several times again.

And then a few more times for good measure.

And he pinches himself, just to be sure.

There is a wall in front of him, behind Derek. With an open door in the middle of it which leads into Derek’s bedroom.

Derek’s _bedroom wall_ is in front of him. It’s very solid. Very real looking.

And also Derek is looking very solid and real in front of him. And thankfully not in nurse mode anymore. Thank god because that look always makes Stiles feels squeamish in a decidedly impolite way (read: turned on).

“Got lost?” Because Stiles notices that Derek has actually been staring into his eyes like they’re in some romance novel.

“I want to try something.”

Stiles gulps. That is such a _line_ and coming after some intense eye contact, Stiles thinks he knows what’s about to happen. Hello again squirmy feeling in Stiles’ stomach.

“What.” Oh crap that was kinda on the breathy side.

“You stay here. I’m going back into my room.”

“Oh, ok.” Is Stiles relived? Disappointed? Who knows. The squirming is still happening though. But the eyes aren’t itchy anymore. Definite plus. When did that happen? He’s not sure he’s felt the need to scratch them the entire time he’s been at Derek’s actually.

Derek retreats back into his bedroom and closes the door behind him.

“Ok,” he yells through the wall, “what do you see?”

“Are you serious?” Stiles doesn’t bother shouting because werewolf senses and all.

“Humour me.”

“The wall Derek. I see a lovely wall that needs to be repainted in something that isn’t this horrible yellow.”

“Keep looking,” comes the reply. It’s actually surprisingly patient. No hint of a growl at all. 

“What, why? This is literally not even as exciting as watching paint dry because-“

“Shut up and concentrate.” And there’s the ~~sexy~~ growl.

“On what!” Stiles yells back, screw speaking normally for sensitive werewolf ears.

Stiles seems to have stumped Derek. Go team. Score one for Stiles.

“On me.”

And score one for Derek. What the hell is that supposed to mean. Like, concentrate on Derek how? Is Stiles supposed to be thinking about Derek’s charming sarcasm and dry humour, or about his proclivity towards silence and manhandling people. 

Perhaps Stiles should be thinking more along the lines of his sculpted torso and dark hair curling at the edges where it’s a little long, and stupid quirking smile and raised eyebrows and-

Oh.

Stiles isn’t imagining that at all. He is literally seeing that. Right in front of him.

“ _Fuuuck_.” He breaths out.

“What do you see?”

“You. I can see you.” Stiles reaches a hand out (no it is _not_ aiming for Derek’s abs) and, “ _shit!_ ” bangs it into something solid. 

“Oh hello wall. You’re closer than I remembered. You definitely crept up-”

What was that clinking noise? Oh, that’s right. The penny dropping.

“Oh. My. God.”

The door opens to his left and Derek steps out, still sans shirt (thanks Stiles’ brain for noting that), to furrow his eyebrows quizzically at Stiles’ person.

“Derek, I think I know what’s happening.” Stiles takes a large breath to steel himself for his impending declaration. “I’m Superman.” Because that is the only logical conclusion. Although why Stiles’ powers are manifesting only now he has no idea.

He does not appreciate the way Derek’s eyebrows raise.

“I’m the Man of Steel, Derek. I have freaking _x-ray vision_.”

“You fought pixies last night Stiles. You aren’t Superman. It’s just a spell.” Although Derek is looking slightly unsure of his assumption and is back to staring into Stiles’ eyes.

“Huh. That does make more sense. Shame. I’d be an awesome Superman.”

“You’d have to wear spandex.” Derek has this weird ability to deliver humour while still looking like he’s confused at Stiles general existence.

“Don’t pretend like I couldn’t pull it off.”

“Never said you couldn’t.” Derek still looks distracted. Stiles wonders whether he meant to say that. It’s kind of a compliment. A sexy one.

In a disappointing turn of events for Stiles’ Superman theory, a very brief trip to Deaton’s office reveals that yes, Derek was right (screw him and his logic). All Stiles had to do was dry swallow some gross plant seeds and then, _viola_ , no x-ray vision. 

No more accidentally seeing Derek naked. Stiles’ sighs at his loss.

“What?” Derek is driving him back to his loft because he left his backpack there.

“Oh, nothing. Just picturing you naked.” Stiles meant it as a witty retort and also to distract Derek by making him angry or embarrassed. With Derek’s body it’s more likely to be the angry option.

Stiles realises too late that he actually told the truth and Derek is going to be able to tell because of his stupid goddamn werewolf senses.

“Ah...” Stiles begins nervously. “Sorry, I guess? That I saw you naked and all.” Fuck, this hole that Stiles is in is getting deep.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Um, what?”

Derek shrugs and looks away from the road to, holy jeez is he smiling? Yes, yes, he looked away from the road to offer Stiles a smile. A really, adorable yet also at the same time sexy smile.

Stiles blinks a few times and opens and closes his mouth.

“But I saw your dick!” Stiles’ brain to mouth filter is clearly malfunctioning today. “Why are you not freaking out?! I totally would be. I saw your entire naked body in like a non-consensual way today and you’re just all ‘don’t worry’.”

“Stiles, stop freaking out.” And there is the smile again.

“Stop smiling at me.”

“Why.” Derek says. _Still smiling._

“Because you don’t smile at me like you _like me_ Derek. That is not a thing that happens.”

“What if I do though?”

“Do what?”

“Like you.”

And if that wasn’t the biggest bombshell of the day Stiles didn’t know what was.

(It actually may have been his temporary x-ray vision. But _aside_ from that.)

“You, Derek Hale, are telling me, Stiles Stilinski, that you like me. In a not just as friends way?”

“Very much in a ‘not just as friends way’.”

Stiles thinks he’s shaking his head back and forth. Can’t really tell though. His brain is doing this weird thing where it’s chanting _Derek like likes you Derek like likes you_ on repeat.

“This day is just so strange. Is that why you’re ok with me seeing you naked.”

“Well when considering entering into a relationship one _does_ usually consider the inevitability of nakedness. It’s just generally mutual and during sex. Not because of sudden x-ray vision.”

“You’ve thought about sex with me.”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Me too. Thought about sex with you. Not with me. Us together, having sex.”

Derek just smiles even bigger (he has not stopped at least having a gentle smile – and isn’t that a revelation to see – this whole conversation).

So maybe there would be more seeing Derek naked. Just not accidentally.

Stiles was _so_ into that.

“Hey, after we go get my backpack did you want to grab some lunch somewhere?”

“How about on the way?”

“My wallet’s in my bag.”

“I’ll pay.”

“This is sounding suspiciously like a date.”

“Is that not what you wanted it to be?”

“Hell yes it is.”

“Then it’s settled. Lunch first. I’ll pay. Then back to the loft.” He doesn’t add ‘for sex’ but Stiles' brain does it loud enough for the both of them.

“Sounds good.”

And because they’re at a red light Stiles leans over the gearshift to grab Derek’s head and twist it so he can attach their lips together in what turns into a stunning first kiss between them that probably features too much tongue and teeth for a traditional first kiss. 

But Stiles has already seen Derek naked so it’s not like traditional was going to be a big feature in the physical aspects of their relationship.

And Derek is a werewolf which has some truly _phenomenal_ possibilities in terms of physical application. Stiles can’t wait to try them all out.

**Author's Note:**

> This idea has just been floating around in my head a lot and I felt like writing something but was struggling with the next chapter of my [**dating show au**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3511835/chapters/7720523) so then this happened.
> 
>  
> 
> [ **Tumblr me up** ](http://whatthehellisawinchester.tumblr.com)


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